


Expert Negotiations

by ragdoll



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Abduction, Community: hp_porninthesun, Cousin Incest, F/M, Gryffindor, Het and Slash, Hufflepuff, M/M, Masturbation, Masturbation in Shower, Multi, Order of the Phoenix (Harry Potter), Polyamory, Sexual Fantasy, Shower Sex, Slytherin, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-02
Updated: 2012-08-02
Packaged: 2017-11-11 05:53:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/475225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ragdoll/pseuds/ragdoll
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Draco’s last memory was of leaving the Frog & Pig pub with a beautiful woman he’d chatted up. His plans for a one-night stand turn out very differently than he’d imagined. [Draco/Tonks, Draco/Bill, Bill/Tonks]</p>
            </blockquote>





	Expert Negotiations

**Author's Note:**

  * For [wwmrsweasleydo (WhatWldMrsWeasleyDo)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhatWldMrsWeasleyDo/gifts).



Draco came to with a start. Bolting up into a seated position, he surveyed his surroundings, uncertain of where he was or how he had gotten there. His last memory was of leaving the Frog & Pig pub hand in hand with the girl he'd pulled, drunk on wine and the anticipation of a long and passion-filled night with a beautiful woman whose name he didn't even know.  
  
His companion had insisted she knew a shortcut to her flat, leading him into an alleyway...then his head had begun to swim before it had all gone black...  
  
And now he was here. Wherever  _here_  was. He had no idea how much time had elapsed, or whether it was day or night. There were no windows visible to give him any sort of clue.  
  
The room was small and sparsely furnished. He was on a narrow bed, the sheets crisp and clean. Next to it was a small bedside table with a lamp, a pile of books, a pitcher of water, and a glass neatly arranged on top of it. In the corner sat another small table and two wooden chairs. The walls were bare, painted a dull grey, and there were only two doors: one closed, the other partially open, a bright light spilling out from behind it. A porcelain sink and tiled wall lay beyond.  
  
Draco hoped he'd find a toilet in there as well.  
  
"Hello? Is anybody there?" Draco called. He managed to get to his feet, gripping the bedpost tightly to keep himself steady. Clearly he was still suffering from whatever had been done to him last night. He looked around for his wand, but it was nowhere to be found. That didn't bode well. With a groan, he staggered to the second door and tried the knob.  
  
It was locked.  
  
"Hello?" He jiggled the door knob again, then peered through the tiny grimy window set in the door. He could just make out a darkened corridor through the filthy glass. "Let me out! Right now!" he shouted. "Do you know who I am? Just wait until my father hears about this! You'll be sorry then!"  
  
There wasn't any answer.  
  
In frustration, Draco began to comb the room for a way to escape. Without a wand he was at a grave disadvantage, but he knew there had to be some way out. He just had to find it.  
  
His search proved fruitless. There were no other exits, not even a vent in the loo. There were no tools or any other implements he could use to force the lock, even if he'd had any clue of just how to go about doing that.  
  
He picked up one of the chairs and swung it at the window in the door. If he could break the glass, surely he could find a way to open the door from the outside. There was a dull thud as the chair bounced off the window and, to his dismay, the pane was still intact, without even a scratch.  
  
Several successive attempts yielded the same result. Deciding the chair was useless, Draco tossed it away in anger. He shouted and railed against his unknown abductors until he was hoarse, and still no one came.  
  
Finally, he set the chair down, slumping onto the bed, panting with exertion. Draco could feel panic starting to overtake him, his heart pounding in his chest. Why was he here, and what did his captors want from him?  
  
He'd kept his nose clean since the war had ended, preferring to work on rebuilding his family's tarnished reputation to getting involved in any futile attempts to revive the Dark Lord's schemes. Even his own father had come to realise that it was folly to tread down that particular path another time - even if his motivation had been fuelled by the knowledge that he never wanted to step foot in Azkaban again.  
  
Some of their former cohorts had not been as wise. But the Malfoys had done their best to avoid any involvement with any of that sort since the war's end. While his parents had all but retired to the family house in Wiltshire, Draco had chosen to try his hand at a vocation, immersing himself in the lucrative world of professional owl breeding. He'd even discovered he had an aptitude in working with the birds. Other than perhaps a jealous competitor, Draco couldn't think of anyone who'd want to exact any sort of revenge upon himself or his family. And even a jealous rival owl fancier wouldn't possibly go to these lengths to get back at him.  
  
He came to the realisation that if his captors had wanted to kill him, he would have been dead already. His accommodations, however Spartan, were hardly a gaol cell, and seemed to indicate at least some modicum of concern for his well-being. That conclusion gave him some comfort.  
  
Sighing in resignation, Draco settled back on the bed, the mattress springs creaking beneath his weight. The prospect of sleeping on such a low-end mattress didn't cheer him up in the least. He snatched one of the books off the night-stand; it was some sort of bodice ripper by Fifi LaFolle. A comely witch was painted on the well-worn paperback cover, all big dark eyes and glossy brown curls spilling down over her large breasts. She looked as though she might faint, her full lips parted as she breathed heavily, her revealing robes growing even tighter with the rise and fall of her heaving bosom.  
  
Draco stared at the picture, brow furrowed in confusion, as it struck him that she looked very familiar. It took a few moments of deliberation before he realised that she was identical to the woman he'd met at the Frog & Pig, the one who'd lured him out of the pub with promises of a more private sort of party.   
  
The thought of  _her_  made Draco scowl. There was no way in the world she hadn't been involved with his abduction. He could see that now, but it angered him to realise he'd been duped. He'd had no reason to be suspicious. She was hardly the first person to show interest in him, or the first woman he'd chatted up. It wasn't as if he lived like a Muggle monk - plenty of people found their way into his bed, a fact he was quite proud of. When the unknown woman had flirted with him, allowing him to ply her with drinks, and then agreed to come home with him, it hadn't been an uncommon occurrence at all.  
  
She'd clearly played him like a well-tuned instrument.  
  
Angrily, he flipped open the book and began to read, wondering just how many pages - or books for that matter - he was going to get through before his abductors made themselves known to him. He just hoped there might be some answer forthcoming sooner rather than later.  
  
*  
  
"Malfoy."  
  
Draco felt someone nudge him in the ribs. "Go'way," he muttered sleepily, batting them away with his half-finished book.  
  
"Malfoy! Wake up!" This time they poked him a little harder. Fully awake now, Draco rolled over to face his assailant, brandishing his book as a weapon. The assailant jumped back, knocking into the table, and setting dishes rattling.  
  
"Are you hungry? I've brought you some food."  
  
Draco's stomach rumbled as the scent of food filled the air and he realised he hadn't eaten in quite some time. Still, he said nothing, eyeing the speaker with curiosity and suspicion.  
  
She was a small woman, slim and compact with a shock of bright pink hair cascading into a long fringe hanging over her eyes. Her face was pale and heart-shaped, and she looked to be a few years older than he was, although still fairly young. Dressed in faded denims and a long sleeved t-shirt, she leant back against the table, gripping her wand tightly in one hand.  
  
"Who are you, and why did you bring me here?" Draco asked. He tried to ignore the delectable smell wafting up from the table.  
  
"Never you mind who I am," she replied, then indicated the dishes. "And we'll talk about why you're here once you've eaten something."  
  
"You sound like my mother," he sneered. Oddly, her voice  _did_  sound like his mother's. "I don't want to eat. I want some answers."  
  
The woman shrugged. "You can want 'em all you'd like, mate. You're not going to get any. At least not right now."  
  
"My family will know I'm missing, and my father will—"  
  
"Your father," she interjected, "thinks you've made a spur of the moment decision to bugger off to an owl breeding convention in Ibiza. He got an owl this morning telling him you'd gone, and there are at least twenty witnesses who will swear they saw you taking the Portkey to do just that thanks to the miracle of Polyjuice."  
  
"So you're holding me hostage? I have a right to know why!"  
  
"Hostage?" She reached up to brush back her fringe with her free hand; her eyes were large and dark beneath. "Who said you're a hostage?"  
  
"I was taken somewhere against my will and am being kept locked in a room - if that's not a hostage, I don't know what is."  
  
"We'd rather think of you as... _a guest_ ," she replied, a hint of a smirk playing on her lips. "You're perfectly safe here and will be treated like a guest, I promise. Which—" her expression grew darker, "is more than I can say your lot did for others in the past."  
  
"My lot?" Draco echoed. "I haven't got any clue what you're on about." There was something infuriatingly familiar about her; the timbre of her voice, the tilt of her head, the sharp point of her chin, even her vulgar pink hair. "These days, I'm just a simple owl breeder from Wiltshire—"  
  
"Oh, shut it, Malfoy," she scoffed. "You ought to eat something - your dinner's getting cold."  
  
"You're not my—" he started. Then it hit him like a ton of bricks. He knew  _exactly_  who she was."You!"  
  
"Me?" The woman - his cousin, the one Aunt Bellatrix had referred to as 'Andromeda's Abomination' - looked at him, blinking in what was obviously feigned innocence.  
  
"You're her. The Metamorphmagus.  _Nymphadora_ , isn't it?"  
  
"Oh, well done, you. Five points to Slytherin. So, you're not nearly as stupid as you look, are you, clever clogs?"  
  
He ignored her taunt. "It was you last night at the Frog & Pig, wasn't it, Nymphadora?"  
  
"Might have been." From her smug expression, he knew he'd hit the nail on the head. "And don't call me Nymphadora. You can call me 'Tonks', mate. Not that you bothered to even ask my name last night."  
  
Draco shrugged. "Your name wasn't particularly important to me, if you must know."  
  
She pursed her lips in annoyance. "Sussed that out, didn't I? Have to say you were a lot easier to pull than I ever imagined. I thought it would take  _some_  convincing, but it was like shooting a plimpy in a barrel. Are you always that desperate for a shag?"  
  
"I'm a healthy, red-blooded wizard. I  _like_  shagging," Draco said with a diffident shrug. "As long as my partner's good looking, I'm not too fussed by their blood status. I didn't plan on marrying you." He leered at her. "You were quite good-looking last night, although I suppose that was the point. I'd even go so far as to say you're even attractive the way you are now."  
  
"Reckon I should be flattered by that," she retorted. "Shouldn't you be trying to scrub your lips off at the thought of snogging the likes of me?"  
  
"If you think I'd be repulsed at the thought of kissing you, you're quite mistaken," Draco drawled. "It doesn't bother me in the least." In actuality, she'd been a very good kisser, although he was hardly about to admit that to her.  
  
"Hmm, suppose that's what your lot thrives on, inbreeding and all that. Gotta keep your blood  _pure_ , haven't you?"  
  
"It's rather like breeding owls," he retorted. "Only by mixing the best bloodlines can one produce a superior yield. Anything else and you're stuck with a substandard mongrel who ought to be put down."  
  
She was on him in a heartbeat, her face contorted with anger as she slapped him hard. It was precisely the response Draco had hoped for. Springing to his feet, he grabbed her by the wrist, and attempted to wrench her wand from her fingers.  
  
Tonks was surprisingly strong, refusing to let go of her wand as they grappled. Draco barrelled into her, shoving her flat against the wall with a loud thud. Gripping her arm, he pinned it above her head, trapping her between the wall and himself. She fought back, wriggling against him, trying her best to get away.  
  
His body began to react to the sensation. To his annoyance, Draco could feel himself growing hard as she attempted to manoeuvre out of his grasp. That only made him angrier. She'd already made a fool of him once. He wasn't about to let it happen again. "Give me the wand," he snarled.  
  
"Fuck off."  
  
She cried out in pain as he twisted her hand and forced her to drop the wand. He snatched it as it fell, but before he could utter a single spell, he felt the hard point of a wand pressing into the small of his back.  
  
"Drop it," a masculine voice growled in his ear. Hot breath ghosted against the side of Draco's neck, fingers grabbing at a large hank of Draco's hair and pulling hard.  
  
"Wha—?"  
  
"I said 'drop it', Malfoy." The wand dug deeper into his spine, and Draco had the definite feeling that the man wasn't playing any sort of game.  
  
With a whimper of frustration, Draco let Tonks's wand slip from his hand and clatter to the floor. Strong arms hauled him off of her, tossing him back onto the bed like a limp rag. He landed on his back, sitting up just in time to see Tonks stooping to pick up her wand, her cheeks flaming with embarrassment.  
  
There was a rustle of fabric and a tall man came into view beside her. His hair was a vivid red, pulled back into a ponytail that brushed down past his narrow shoulders. A line of angry scars ran from his temple down to his jaw, and a sharp fang dangled from his earlobe. He tucked an invisibility cloak over one arm, then reached out to rest his hand on Tonks's shoulder. "Are you all right, love?"  
  
Draco immediately recognized him as a Weasley; there was no mistaking that ginger hair or those freckles. From the scars, he knew exactly which one the newcomer was. The eldest. The one Greyback had bragged about mauling. Phil or Will or...  
  
"Bill, I'm as right as rain. Really," Tonks said, rubbing her wrist where Draco had grabbed it. "Nothing wounded but m'pride."  
  
"I'm glad I didn't leave you alone with him, Tonks. I knew we couldn't trust him," Weasley told her, shifting his attention over to Draco. His eyes were a deep blue, and cold. Draco forced himself not to flinch under Weasley's scrutinizing stare.  
  
"Reckoned if I was nice to him, he might cooperate with us, but—" Tonks let out a derisive snort. "Won't ever make that mistake again, will I?"  
  
"I don't even think he's worth the bother."  
  
Draco bristled at the insult. "Why should I cooperate with you? You kidnap me off the street, you lock me away like some—some  _prisoner_ , and you won't even tell me what you want from me." He huffed in annoyance. "I don't even know who 'you' are. I mean I know your names, but that's about it. I assumed either of you would try to escape under those circumstances."  
  
"It's a fair cop." She shrugged. "But it's your fault. I told you to have your dinner, then we'd talk. You chose to attack me instead."  
  
"He won't be doing that again," Weasley said gruffly. "Not if he wants to go home to his mummy and daddy in one piece, that is."  
  
"You wouldn't dare!" Draco exclaimed.  
  
Weasley raised an eyebrow. "Wouldn't I?"  
  
"You're supposed to be the 'good guys'." Draco said the last words with a hint of disdain. "You work for the new Minister - he'd never condone that."  
  
"What Kingsley doesn't know won't hurt him." From the way Weasley said it, Draco got the feeling that Shacklebolt was part and parcel of whatever was happening right now. "Though it might hurt you—" He flashed Draco a feral grin, making Draco flinch.  
  
"Bill, stop it." Tonks put a restraining hand on his arm. "You're scaring him."  
  
"I am not scared," Draco insisted, doing his best not to shake. "Not in the least."  
  
"Well, maybe if you work with us, Bill will calm down. He hasn't been the same since that werewolf attack, you know." She gave Draco a knowing look, as if it was  _his_  fault Greyback had chosen to use Weasley as a chewtoy. "Look, we know you were a Death Eater—  
"  
  
Draco opened his mouth to protest, then realised it would be pointless.  
  
"Harry told us about you, how you saved his life when you could've let him be killed, and since things ended, you've been on the straight and narrow. At least, I hope you have - but some of your mates, they've been very naughty, haven't they?"  
  
"I haven't got 'mates'."  
  
"Your former colleagues, then?" She pulled a face. "We're trying to track 'em down before they cause any further trouble."  
  
"And what's that got to do with me?"  
  
This time Weasley spoke. "We know you know who they are and where they are. You give us names, we round them up."  
  
"And we let you go," added Tonks. "We'll protect you —they'll never suss out that you're the one that grassed on them. We really could use your help, Malfoy."  
  
"No."  
  
"Told you," said Weasley.  
  
Tonks looked at Draco sadly, responding with a slow shake of her head. "We'll let you think on it tonight. We'll talk again in the morning."  
  
"Wait, you can't—" Draco started.  
  
"Can't we?" Weasley wrapped an arm around Tonks's waist, his eyes still firmly on Draco. "Watch us." Before Draco could say another word, the pair had Apparated from the room, leaving him all alone.  
  
He rushed to the door, pounding on it and demanding to be let out, but there was no reply. He slumped against the smooth wood in resignation, then realised he heard voices from the other side.  
  
He grabbed one of the chairs and dragged it under the window, doing his best not to make a sound. Pressing his nose against out the cloudy glass, he peered out into the darkened corridor. There he saw Weasley and Tonks, arms around one another, holding each other in what was clearly more than a platonic embrace. Weasley was comforting her - his large hands stroking her back in a soothing fashion while he kissed her, first on her wrist, then the crown of her head, followed by the tip of her nose, and finally her lips.  
  
Draco felt a pang of jealousy. He knew what it was like to kiss her - they'd snogged in the alleyway before everything had gone black. It had been very nice. He longed to be comforted by someone as well, to have a pair of strong arms around him, someone to reassure him that he was safe, that everything was going to be all right. While he didn't really believe Weasley's threats, he couldn't be 100% certain.  
  
If the situation had been the other way round, there was a good chance someone would have been hurt. He still had nightmares about what had transpired at Malfoy Manor during the War, of Charity Burbage's face, of what he'd been forced to do to Rowle, of the horrors that had taken place to the captives in the cellar...But that had been Voldemort's doing along with Aunt Bellatrix, not  _his_ . He couldn't have stopped it if he'd tried.  
  
He knew how dangerous his fellow Death Eaters had been - and still were. Naming them would only stir a cauldron that was best left untouched. There was no reason for him to turn them in to the Ministry, or whoever it was Weasley and Tonks were working for. He had his own safety to consider, as well as that of his parents. He would not, could not do it.  
  
He continued to watch the snogging couple for a few more minutes, until they broke apart, then headed out of his view. Slowly, he stepped down from the chair, eyeing the dinner Tonks had left for him. No doubt it had gone cold now, but he was hungry all the same. He sat down at the table and uncovered the dish. It was filled with some sort of stew, now tepid with a layer of congealing grease on top, and some freshly baked bread on the side. There was also a glass of cool pumpkin juice to wash it down.  
  
The only utensil Tonks had given him was a spoon. Draco used it to push the grease aside to get to the stew. He took a bite and was relieved to discover it actually tasted very good. He was so famished that he would have wolfed it down, no matter what. Right now it was the finest meal he'd ever eaten.  
  
Finally he pushed himself away from the table, sated. He didn't know what to do with the dirty dishes and silver - at home, there was always a House-Elf ready to whisk things away - but here, there was nothing and no one. He would just have to hope someone would come to collect them in the morning.  
  
Draco briefly considered trying to make a weapon out of something, but it was a useless pursuit. The dishes proved to be as unbreakable as the window in the door. The same was true of the spoon. He attempted to find some way to sharpen the edge, but that proved fruitless too. Slightly annoyed and more than a little bored, he flopped back onto his bed and picked up the trashy novel again.  
  
His attention was drawn to the winsome witch on the cover once again. She winked at him saucily. Draco's thoughts strayed to his encounter at the Frog & Pig; his cousin had done something similar from across the room to get him to notice her. The ploy had worked. He felt his cock twitch at the memory of snogging her in the dim light of the alleyway, her body flush against his, her hands running down his back to grip his arse.  
  
Draco palmed himself through his clothing, biting his lower lip to stifle a moan. He wondered momentarily if he might be under surveillance, then decided he didn't care. His need was far too urgent.  
  
He unfastened his trousers, quickly shoving them down to his knees. His pants followed. Glancing around, he hoped to find some sort of lubrication, but there was nothing useful. At home, he used hand crème imported from Provence. Here, he would have to make do. With a sneer, Draco spat into his palms until they were slick and damp, then wrapped his fingers tightly around his shaft. With a moan, he began to fist himself.  
  
 _Tonks Apparated into the room, startling him as she stood by the foot of his bed. "I had to come back," she said softly. "We really need your help, Draco. Isn't there_ any _way I can convince you to work with us?" She batted her eyes coyly, already reaching for the top clasp on her robes.  
  
"Why should I help you? What's in it for me?" Draco asked slyly.   
  
"How about  _me_?" He watched as her robes parted, revealing pale, smooth skin. She let them slide off her shoulders, leaving her stark naked. A smirk formed on his lips as his eyes roved over her lithe body, taking in her firm, full breasts, taut stomach and slim hips. He was not surprised to see the soft  **V**  of curls between her legs was the same outrageous pink as the hair on her head.  
  
"And what am I supposed to do with you?"  
  
"Anything you want, mate." Her voice was low and sultry sending a shiver of excitement straight up his spine. She extended a hand to him, beckoning him toward her.  
  
Draco sprang off the bed, immediately on his feet, and rushed towards her. He pushed Tonks up against the wall, and kissed her hard, his hands roaming all over her body. She moaned against his lips as he grabbed her arse, giving the firm flesh a squeeze, rubbing against him shamelessly._  
  
He tightened his grip on his cock, increasing the pressure as well as the speed of his strokes, his hips starting to rise off the bed with each stroke.  
  
 _They kissed greedily, urgently, her tongue sliding into his mouth, swirling against his own. Tonks's hand slipped inside his trousers, fingers brushing the head of his cock as she pushed aside his pants.  
  
Draco hissed with approval, rocking against her even faster. He worked one hand between their bodies, pushing between her damp thighs. She was unbelievably wet, writhing and mewling as he pressed one finger against her clit.  
  
"Yesssss." She shifted, allowing him better access. Her words turned to a guttural cry when he slid his questing finger inside her.  
  
Draco kissed her harder, adding a second finger and thrusting inside her quickly. She tightened around him, bearing down to grind against his hand, whimpering with need.  
  
"Fuck me, Draco," she pleaded, before biting down on his earlobe and sucking hard. "Please."  
  
Dragging her over to the bed, Draco pushed her down on the mattress. He took in the sight of her lying on her back so wantonly, legs spread wide for him. She gazed up at him, licking her lips, her fingers brushing along the length of his cock. It took all his strength to pull away long enough to kick his clothes off before joining her on the narrow bed.  
  
She pulled him on top of her, whispering filthy suggestions in his ear as Draco guided himself inside her. She gasped as he entered her, pushing in balls deep. He groaned, savouring the feel of her: tight, hot and wet, and began to thrust, taking her hard and fast. Tonks let out a loud cry each time he drove his cock into her, scoring his back with her nails as he pounded her against the mattress.  
  
It didn't take long before he was coming, his vision exploding to white behind his eyes..._  
  
Hot spunk splattered along Draco's chest and belly, dripping between the fingers of his clenched fist as he came. Panting, he slowed his strokes, squeezing his spent cock until there was nothing left. Eventually he stopped entirely, lying limply on the mattress until he could catch his breath.  
  
He was sated and sticky, the anger and anxiety momentarily drained from his body. Drawing in a deep breath, Draco slid his clean hand down, carefully working his handkerchief out of his trouser pocket before slowly wiping the cooling trail of semen off his skin. He was grateful it hadn't got on the sheets. The thought of having to sleep on dirty linens made him feel ill.  
  
He felt unclean, now in desperate need of a bath, or at least a shower. Slowly, he got up off the bed and headed towards the bathroom. To his relief, it looked clean, with toiletries, a wrapped toothbrush and fresh towels piled up on the corner of the black porcelain sink. A pair of new green-striped cotton pyjamas was placed next to them.  
  
In the corner of the room, there was a small shower stall, a wrapped bar of soap sitting in the silver dish fixed to the wall. Draco let out a wry laugh. It was almost as if his captors wanted him to think he was a guest at some quaint inn. A quaint, second-rate inn.  
  
Draco sniffed at the toiletries. The shampoo, hair conditioner and soap seemed pretty bog-standard, hardly any sort of product he'd normally used. His personal preferences for lotions, potions and gels were all expensive and hand-blended formulas, made from exotic herbs and rare ingredients, and scented with expensive perfumes, procured from an exclusive centuries-old apothecary in France. However, faced with the choice of either remaining unwashed and covered with spunk or using the products left for him, Draco decided he'd rather be clean. He'd worry about rough skin and dried out hair later.  
  
Stripping off, he stepped into the shower and turned on the tap. The water from the shower head was warm and clear, hitting him full force as he stood beneath it. Draco unwrapped the soap and began to lather up, scrubbing away at his skin until he was pink and smooth once more. As loathe as he was to do so, he used the shampoo to wash his hair, rinsing away the smoky, greasy residue from his night in the pub.  
  
He reached for the soap again, rubbing it over his skin, over his chest, his stomach, and finally his groin. His cock sprung to life at the merest touch. Draco groaned, happy that at least this time he had better lubrication than his own spit.  
  
 _"Need any help with that?" Bill Weasley asked gruffly.  
  
Startled, Draco turned around, wet hair plastering his face, to see Weasley standing naked outside the shower stall. His body was long and lean and well-muscled, his cock an impressive length. Even with the scars on his body, he was a very handsome man. He seemed completely unfazed by his state of undress. "What are you doing here?" Draco demanded. "Am I not allowed any privacy at all?"  
  
"Someone's got to keep an eye on you," Weasley replied. "Wouldn't want you wandering off before we'd had a chance to speak with you."  
  
"If I was going to escape, I would have already," Draco scoffed. "Of course, if you've got some secret way out of here, feel free to show me where it is."  
  
Weasley studied him for a moment, the corner of his mouth curving up in a self-satisfied manner. He seemed to be taking in Draco's wet, naked body, and the erection Draco was making no attempt to hide. "And have you leave us so soon? That wouldn't be any fun, now would it, mate?"  
  
Without asking permission, Weasley pushed the shower curtain back and closed the distance between them in a few quick strides. He loomed over Draco, gazing down at him, his eyes full of hunger and _ want _.  
  
"Who says I want to have fun with you, Weasley?" Draco flashed his most defiant expression, although he could feel his cock aching. He'd once caught Weasley's youngest brother, Ron, starkers in the Prefects' Bathroom, and as unlikeable as the younger Weasley was, he was quite nicely put together.  _This_  Weasley was even more attractive. "And I am most certainly not your mate."  
  
Weasley reached over to push Draco's hair off his face, his fingers raking through the fine strands of wet silver-white hair. Draco's breath hitched as the older man traced along the shell of his ear with a feather-light touch. "C'mon, Malfoy, I think we can be friends." His eyes flickered down to Draco's erection, then back up to his face. "I can see you want to. And please, call me Bill."  
  
"I—" Draco started, but his words were cut off as Weasley -  _Bill_  — crushed his mouth against Draco's in a searing kiss. He felt himself being pushed back against the cool, wet tile wall of the shower, the other man's weight pressing against him. Draco groaned, yielding immediately, and kissed him back greedily.  
  
He could feel Bill's erection against his belly, Bill's hips starting to rock against his own. Draco's cock was trapped in the other man's soap-slickened fist, rubbing against his as Bill wrapped his long fingers around them both and began to stroke.  
  
Draco thrust up into his rough palm, Draco's cock sliding along Bill's hard length. His moans grew louder as they both moved at the same frenetic pace, the friction of skin on wet skin maddening. Bill fondled Draco's arse with his free hand, his fingertips brushing down between Draco's buttocks and against his arsehole. Draco's knees threatened to buckle from the unbelievable sensations.  
  
"Like that, do you?" Bill growled before nipping at the crook of Draco's neck, making him cry out.  
  
"Mmmph, yes..." Draco's words broke off into a strangled cry and he clutched at Bill to keep himself upright..._  
  
And then he was spurting into his own hand, desperately clinging to the shower tap as his body was wracked with wave after wave of pleasure. Gradually, he came back to himself, his flaccid cock in his hand. Somehow Draco managed to turn off the water before slumping against the shower wall, relishing the feel of the cool damp porcelain against his heated skin.  
  
He stumbled shakily out of the stall, mustering up just enough strength to wrap himself with a towel and collapse on top of the closed toilet. It took what seemed like an eon before Draco could contemplate drying off and putting on the borrowed pyjamas that had been left for him. He was grateful to discover they were a perfect fit.  
  
Exhausted, he crawled back into the main room and tumbled into bed, the lights dimming of their own accord. Earlier, Draco had sworn to himself he wouldn't fall asleep, but that now seemed like an impossible task. His eyes were already drooping closed, and sleep overtook him as soon as his head hit the all too firm pillow.  
  
*   
  
When Draco awoke the next morning, he knew what he had to do. He wasn't certain how long he'd slept or what time it was now, but he felt almost refreshed from the previous night's exertions. Yawning, he rubbed his eyes and looked around. The room was empty, but last night's dishes had been removed, replaced by a fresh tray of steaming hot food. It was only a simple fry-up, hardly the fare Draco was used to, but it smelled delicious.  
  
Heading to the bathroom, he took care of his morning ablutions, doing his best to freshen up. A comb had been left for him, which helped the state of his hair. His captors hadn't seen fit to give him a razor; if they were afraid he might try to hurt himself, they were sorely mistaken. Draco couldn't abide looking unkempt. He ran a hand over his chin, grateful that there was no sign of stubble yet, although his hair was so light, it would hardly have been visible in any event.  
  
Reluctantly, he put on yesterday's clothes, smoothing them out as best he could. Without a wand, it was difficult, but as he checked himself out in the mirror, he decided he looked presentable. It would have to be good enough for now.  
  
He ate his breakfast quickly, then pushed the plates aside, sat back in his chair and waited. It couldn't be too long before someone showed up to collect the dirty dishes. Not to mention  _talk_  to him again. When half an hour had passed and no one had appeared, Draco deduced it was time to take matters into his own hands.  
  
"I'm ready to negotiate!" he shouted. "I can't do it if there's no one here to work with, can I?"  
  
Moments later, Tonks and Weasley Apparated into the small room. Draco was very glad to see it was the two of them rather than anyone else they might be in league with. His plans would not work without their involvement.  
  
"Changed your mind, have you?" asked Weasley, eyeing him sceptically.  
  
"Good morning to you too, Weasley."  
  
"How are you?" Tonks seemed genuinely concerned about his welfare. "Did you sleep alright? Do you want anything else to eat?"  
  
"In order of your questions," Draco replied, "I'm perfectly fine under the circumstances, I'm amazed that I was able to sleep at all given the quality of that mattress, and no, I'm not hungry. Thank you for asking." He knew he was going to have to remain polite in order to get what he needed out of their discussions.  
  
She nodded, looking relieved.  
  
"Take a seat." Draco wave a hand, indicating the chair on the opposite side of the table, looking at them expectantly, watching to see what they'd do. As expected, Weasley deferred to Tonks, allowing her to sit while he stood behind her, his expression guarded.  
  
"Let's not fanny about," Weasley said as soon as Tonks settled in her chair. "You said something about negotiations?"  
  
"Blunt and right to the point." Draco shook his head in amusement. "Typical Weasley."  
  
"And...?"  
  
Tonks broke into the conversation. "Boys, don't let's argue. Draco said he wanted to negotiate, so let's do just that, shall we?"  
  
"First of all, you can drop the good Auror, bad Auror routine," Draco replied. "You've already told me what you want from me, so the question is, what do you have that I want in return?"  
  
Weasley raised a quizzical eyebrow while Tonks leant forward, looking intrigued.  
  
"Sounds like you've definitely got something in mind," she stated.  
  
"I do. First of all, I want a guarantee of my safety and that of my parents. Assuming I actually have any useful information, I am not willing to put my life on the line to share it with you. Or that of my mother and father. I know more than most what our former...cohorts are capable of, and I refuse to spend the rest of my days looking over my shoulder in fear of them. I won't put my parents in harms' way either."  
  
The pair exchanged a quick look, then nodded. "We can do that," Tonks reassured him. "There are safe houses, there are protection spells. I give you my word that the people we bring down won't ever know who named them, and once they're put away there'll be no chance of retribution."  
  
"Okay." Draco steepled his fingers together, concentrating on them before continuing. "I'm also not willing to tell you everything at once. I don't trust you and I'm pretty certain you don't trust me either."  
  
Weasley let out a snort and muttered, "You got that right, Malfoy."  
  
"So, I will let you have information over a period of time. One or two names or bits of evidence at a time. No more, no less. That way you can see if I'm telling the truth, and vice versa."  
  
"Fair enough."  
  
"I'm also not willing to stay  _here_  indefinitely. You'll let me go in good faith, and I'll supply you with what you need to know."  
  
"And disappear out of the country?" Weasley scowled. "Not bloody likely."  
  
Tonks held up her hand to silence her partner. "You'll supply us with what we need to know first, and then we'll let you go. You give us a name, we get it sorted, and then you're free to leave."  
  
Draco looked at her impassively, doing his best not to give anything away. Her response was precisely what he'd been hoping for. "And if you expect anything further from me, I want something in exchange."  
  
"What the hell could we have that you'd want?" scoffed Weasley. "You've already got plenty of gold, there's nothing we can do about your reputation—"  
  
"I want  _you_ ," Draco announced. "One of you, or both of you. Together or separately. You can even take turns. It doesn't really matter to me how you work it. For every useful bit of information I give you, I get  _rewarded_ ."  
  
"You want  _what_ ?" Tonks echoed, blinking in surprise. Draco saw Weasley's hand tighten on her shoulder, but the other man said nothing.  
  
This time Draco smiled. "I want you. And," he looked up at Weasley, "you. Last night was a lovely little appetizer, Nymphadora, but I want to try the whole meal. Or rather, a whole series of meals. Being a turncloak is quite a lonely business, you know. I deserve to get something out of it."  
  
"And what makes you think either of us would want  _you_ ?"  
  
He sat up a little taller, preening ever so slightly. "Why wouldn't you?"  
  
"I'd forgotten how bloody humble you Malfoys were," Tonks said with a roll of her eyes. She turned to look at Weasley, giving his sleeve a tug. "I think we're going to have to discuss this alone. Gis a few minutes then."  
  
Draco nodded, watching as they disappeared from the room. He could hear their voices, low and muffled, out in the corridor once more. Filled with curiosity, he pushed his chair over to the door and climbed up to observe them. He watched the conversation play out, Tonks looking far more enthusiastic than Weasley. He suspected his cousin was making quite an effort to convince Weasley that his terms were worth consideration.  
  
Clearly he wasn't the only one who'd enjoyed their snogging the night before.  
  
Finally Weasley threw his hands up in what Draco hoped was resignation, allowing Tonks to catch him up in a long embrace. Taking that as a signal of their imminent return, Draco dragged his chair back to the table, throwing himself onto it, and arranging himself into the picture of total nonchalance. They returned to the room just seconds later.  
  
"Well?" Draco drawled. Judging by their expression, he had a feeling that Tonks would be the only one to accept his offer. He was perfectly satisfied with that as long as it got him out of this room, and someone into his bed.  
  
"Let's say we agreed to this plan of yours," Tonks said, giving Weasley a quick side-long glance. "How would we work it?"  
  
"We would negotiate the terms and conditions, of course. I'd never want someone to come to my bed unwillingly. That wouldn't be much fun, now would it?"  
  
"This isn't a game, Malfoy," Weasley snarled.  
  
"I'm well aware of that,  _Weasley_ . You're asking me to put my life on the line whereas I'm asking for a few hours of pleasure in return. Seems more than fair to me." Draco crossed his arms across his chest. "I'm not about to steal your girlfriend from you, you know. You're perfectly welcome to watch. Or join in if you'd prefer." That was definitely Draco's own preference, but he was smart enough to know not to voice that desire just yet.  
  
"How do you know I even fancy boys?" asked Weasley, looking slightly miffed.  
  
Draco smirked. He might not have remembered Weasley's first name, but he'd certainly remembered the tales of his sexual prowess at school. "Your reputation at Hogwarts was legendary."  
  
Tonks burst out into laughter while Weasley's cheeks turned red. "Reckon he's got you there, love."  
  
"So, is it a deal, then?" Draco couldn't help but feel elated.  
  
"You give us some names, and if they prove to be valuable, we'll let you go," Tonks replied, extending her hand to him. "After that, we'll sort out just how this 'payment' of yours is to work."  
  
Tentatively, Draco took her hand and shook it.  
  
"And if your information turns out to be exceptionally good," she grinned at him, "you might even earn some sort of advance on that payment."  
  
Weasley's expression was unreadable. "You'll have to work very hard to earn it," he stated. Draco thought he detected a hint of amusement in Weasley's voice, although he couldn't be certain.  
  
"Oh, I'm sure we'll work Draco very hard," Tonks said coyly.  
  
There was no misinterpreting what she meant by that. Draco felt his cock twitch. "Stockton," he blurted. "Velius Stockton. He lives near Upper Flagley. Horrible low level little toerag, but he was quite good at murdering Muggles."  
  
"Right. Let's go call on Mr. Stockton, then, shall we?" Tonks turned to Weasley, then back to Draco. "We'll be back to let you know what happens as soon as we can, yeah?"  
  
Draco responded with a quick nod. With that, they Apparated out of sight, leaving Draco once again on his own. Leaning back in his chair, he stretched his arms behind his head, grinning triumphantly. He hadn't lied to them, so had every confidence that she'd keep her word, that he'd be released shortly. Hopefully there'd be enough time for a celebratory wank — just to take the mounting pressure off himself - before they returned. 


End file.
